


Vulnerable

by 7veilsphaedra



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Saiyuki Burial - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/pseuds/7veilsphaedra
Summary: Several moonlit moments caught in Koumyou's photographic mind
Relationships: Koumyou Sanzo/Ni Jianyi | Ukoku
Kudos: 5





	Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rroselavy for the 2014 Valentine Smut giftfic exchange on Dreamwidth. Posted to update this archive.  
> Prompts: photograph; shelter; whip

If Koumyou could take a strobe series of snapshots at his leisure, it would be during that series of instances while Ukoku’s body writhed and arched beneath him, exposing the upper part of his torso to the moonlight, and the sleek planes and surfaces of his abdomen in rippling shadows as Koumyou’s hair, glistening in the light of stars, fell around like a sheltering curtain. It would be as his mouth worked and his hands were clenched the bedclothes; that moment when he stiffened, a tiny high-pitched gasp pushing its way out of his lungs; as he trembled and twitched as waves of energy pulsed through him and his spend spread between their stomachs. 

Most of all, it would be as he lay, collapsed on creased, moistened sheets and pillows, chest heaving, hair tousled like a haystack, eyes closed, lips loose … parted, deep breaths … the wake shuddering through his wide-spread thighs. It was the only moment Ukoku ever looked completely innocent and unguarded, Koumyou’s favourite, the only time when his truest essential nature showed.

One of the tempering effects of age upon Koumyou’s body was that orgasms had lost their excitement. He would rather bring the energy upward into his heart where the feeling was of warmth and of gentle liquid bathing, or into the crown of his head, where it sent a tender silvery quality raining down over them. It wasn’t that his life force dimmed either. He was as strong and healthy as a warrior half his age, not prone to depressions or anxieties or psychotic episodes where his mind broke due to stress. There was no physiological reason not to come, and he wasn’t blocking his orgasms, but they felt too dense and harsh, and he no longer needed to dissipate excessive life force in this way. It no longer bothered him that he seldom needed to sleep, or that his body, mind and feelings steadily pulled further away from the earth.

He also knew that there was a small, dark and very dense core of insecurity which remorselessly whipped Ukoku, and he would take it very personally if Koumyou did not come. Instead of seeing Koumyou’s act as a matter of taking pleasure from seeing pleasure given, as Koumyou did, Ukoku would extrapolate the completely mistaken conclusion that he was no longer desired. It would eat away even further at his already shaken heart and dissolute core. The poisoning process had started long before Ukoku had joined Goudai’s monastery, likely long before his life began. It wasn’t a great misfortune to play a part in much larger, more sweeping destinies, but such a life probably felt accursed to anyone who was so destined.

Ukoku would never admit to seeing things that way, but he would and, once it happened Koumyou knew their affair would also be poisoned, a burning acidic bitterness reaching back to its start. So it was a matter of some considerable delicacy that Koumyou always had to come, or at least convincingly appear to come. 

This night, he couldn’t. It was imperative that the energy be used to pull Ukoku back from the brink of madness instead. Lately, he had been hovering so close to that edge. 

So Koumyou sent a small spell to generate the illusion of warmth pulsing into Ukoku’s base, under his spine. He carefully seemed to collapse with his weight off of Ukoku’s torso and expiated a couple of decorous sighs. He let the real energy pulse through his moistened forehead as he touched it to Ukoku’s. He did not have to feign the muzzy, tender, soft expression in his eyes. He did love this poor battered crow, his Ukoku. He really did love him so very much.


End file.
